Healing the Wounds (12 page)

He closed his mouth over the head of Jay’s cock again. Sliding lips took him to the root. Henry gave blowjobs. Paradigm shift. Better than she could. Better than Jay, and he got bucket loads of practice. Sucking cock seemed so un-Henry-like.

Yet Henry retained control. Dominant, even with Jay’s cock in his throat. Whimpering and writhing, Jay was helpless to do anything but accept his gift. Bold and confident, Henry commanded Jay’s submission to having his cock sucked.

Jay arched his back and dragged his feet up the bed, swaying the mattress. His shoulder blades jutted into her stomach and thighs as he rose to meet Henry’s pull. The strain outlined every gorgeous muscle beneath his toned stomach. His teeth flashed, his mouth wide and pouring forth sweet, wordless whines.

The power dynamic was the opposite of what Cal would’ve done—had threatened to do—to her. But a blowjob didn’t have to be a demeaning, frightening act. She’d enjoyed giving to Henry and Jay before. She would again. The people, not the act, made it what it was. She brushed back shaggy black strands of Jay’s hair falling in his eyes.

Henry’s right arm, bent at the elbow, rested on Jay’s stomach, his hand mostly out of sight. Hidden between Jay’s legs, shadowed by the movement of Henry’s mouth as he sucked. Massaging Jay’s balls. Or lower. Teasing and circling Jay like he’d done to her months ago.

Her body clenched, and it wasn’t in fear. It was curiosity. A stirring of desire.

Jay’s groans grew louder, their familiar eager note signaling his imminent orgasm.

Henry gained velocity, his lips sliding with a twisting motion from root to tip and back again, his cheeks hollowing out. His breath was harsh and loud and all but drowned out by Jay’s noises.

Jay shouted Henry’s name, hips jerking beneath Henry’s weight.

Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Holy fuck.

Henry let Jay’s cock slip from his mouth and covered Jay’s chest with his own. “To whom do you belong, Jay?” His voice was hard and commanding and punctuated by his breaths.

“You, Henry.” Limp and smiling, Jay stared up at Henry with wide, adoring eyes. Bliss. Maybe the same sort of muddled bliss she floated in when Henry mixed pain and pleasure into a devastating cocktail for her.

“You enjoy belonging to me, don’t you, Jay?”

“Love you, Henry. Want to be yours always.”

Henry’s breaths quieted, and he stilled. “You know I’ll never hurt you.”

Jay’s head shook vaguely. “Never ever.”

“Good boy.”

Henry kissed him, a kiss that started fierce, like the ones he’d given Jay earlier, but this one softened, and gentled, and slowed into the lingering affection of longtime lovers. And when Henry pulled back, he brushed his hand through Jay’s hair, running across Alice’s fingers, lifting them to his mouth and kissing her knuckles.

“Never ever,” she echoed.

Henry raised startled eyes—grateful eyes—to hers.

“I know it.” She sank into the love in his steady stare, the weight as real as his embrace.

“My sweet girl,” he murmured. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He delivered the barest brush of his lips on one corner of her mouth, a chaste and reverent touch, before he claimed her lips fully and gave her the lingering attention he’d given Jay.

Afterward, they lay together in silence, Henry’s head at her neck and Jay’s atop her thigh, her hand and Henry’s meeting in Jay’s hair.

A long while passed before they rose from the bed, all three of them together, unwilling to part even to send one for a washcloth. Henry washed his hands and face in the sink while Alice and Jay nuzzled and kissed. Affectionate but not passionate, at least for her. With libidos satisfied, the emotional closeness mattered now.

Henry patted the countertop and urged Jay to lift her onto it as he wet a washcloth. Wary of the edge beside her hip, she spread her thighs at Henry’s command.

Henry frowned. “We must give thought to enlarging this countertop. It’s entirely too small.”

Jay smiled at her over Henry’s shoulder.

She clapped a hand to her mouth as a giggle escaped. And another. She and Jay cracked up, unable to stop themselves.

Henry watched with a half smile and his I’ll-have-you-figured-out-momentarily squint.

Jay got himself almost under control first. “I had”—snort—“the same thought”—gasp—“myself”—chuckle—“last week.”

“He did.” She sucked in a breath and held it until she could talk without giggling. “He was going to ask you about redecorating.”

“Ah—I said two words. Alice. Mirrors.” Jay gave her a smug smirk.

Henry waggled his eyebrows.

Alice’s giggles erupted again.

“Such a brilliant boy. We’ll put it on the to-do list. But right now—” Henry pressed the washcloth between her legs, and her giggle deepened into a moan. “I believe the to-do list is full.”

The rich aroma of beef in the oven enticed her the instant she opened the door Monday night. Greeting her with a kiss, Henry sent her to change out of her work clothes.

She wandered back to the kitchen. Six o’clock. “No Jay?”

“One of his couriers neglected to come to work today, it seems, so he’ll be late to dinner this evening.” Henry manned the stove, browning what smelled like bacon, but in chunks rather than strips. The meat crackled and popped over the classical music on the radio.

“Smells good. He’s gonna be sorry if he misses it.” Not just him. She’d miss Jay’s running commentary about his day at the table.

“Mmm. I’ve lowered the temperature on the roast. We may wait on him. He’ll call when he’s on his way.” Henry fiddled with a pot on the stove. “Drain this, please, and I’ll show you how to prepare them once they’ve cooled a bit.”

She dumped the hot water and refilled the pot with cold water to keep the baby onions wet and her eyes tear-free. A quick demonstration from Henry had her cutting off the ends, removing the skins, and slicing a cross pattern into the little onions.

He hummed along to the music as he worked. The melody floated and bounced, light and springy, a confidence booster. His contentment steadied her.

“Favorite song?” Not the question she meant to ask. A warm-up.

“Haydn. One of the
London
symphonies.” His sidelong glance and slight smile prompted hers. He always said he couldn’t help if she wouldn’t ask.

“Henry?” She cursed her tentative tone. Jay’s reassurances and Henry’s forceful desire Saturday night should’ve been enough for her.

He finished moving the bacon pieces to a plate to drain. “Yes?” The weight of his stare dropped across her shoulders.

She cut the final cross and set the knife down. “What’s ‘fair chalk’?”

“What’s fair—ah. I see.” He gathered the onions and slid them into the pan with the bacon grease and butter, settling them and adjusting the heat. “
Sverchok
, you mean. Has this question weighed on your mind all this time?”

Two days was practically light speed for her. She’d waited so she’d only embarrass herself in front of Henry and not Jay. Waited until her quietly obsessive two-day search online for a word she couldn’t pronounce, let alone spell, in a language she didn’t know, turned up nothing.

“Share with me, sweet girl.” He reached out and tipped her chin up. “You’ve taken the first step by asking the question—for which I’m so very proud of you. Will you take another step for me? Tell me what you fear?”

She couldn’t say no, not when he coaxed her with his tender rumble. Not when he looked at her with patience and confidence, as if he knew she’d come to the correct decision.

“It sounded affectionate.” She winced, ashamed to sound like a jealous child. “Loving.”

“It is.” He faced her and stroked her upper arms. He wouldn’t hide the truth. He might welcome the chance to shepherd her through this.

“I was afraid.” To still be worried about how she measured up alongside Emma, about what Emma meant to Henry, was silly. Childish. “That you might”—his calm gave her courage—“love her. That you loved her first.” She squirmed, uneasiness seeping through in a whisper. “More than me.”

“My brave Alice.” He stepped forward, slid his arms around her back, and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for telling me what’s worrying you. You know how important your feelings are to me, don’t you?”

“I know, Henry.” She didn’t know why exactly, and her anxiety hung in hope of a fuller answer.

“Alice.” He splayed one hand flat against her back and brushed her hair off her neck with the other. “I am thirty-nine years old. My adult life began many years before I met you. I cannot change that at this late date—nor would I choose to.”

She flinched, stung.

He raised the hand at her neck and cupped her cheek. “Those years, those events, those
people
shaped me into the man I am. The man who loves you.”

Tears pricked her eyes. He loved her. She knew.

“When I look into my future and imagine the shape of my life five, ten, even twenty years from now, it is a life with you and with Jay. It is many happy years together. It is—” He shook his head and hugged her. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Forgive me.”

Twenty years? She had trouble imagining her life in five years, let alone twenty. But the comforting press of his hands overrode the panic in her chest, the thumping of her heart.
I don’t—I could—I’ll still want this.

“You have nothing to fear from Emma. The affection I have for her does not compare to the love between us.” He held her head in his hands and stared into her eyes. “Emma has never shared my bed, dearest. She is a good friend, almost a sister, but she has never been a lover, nor have I truly desired her to be.”

He kissed her, the kind of kiss that made her eager to forget dinner and beg him to take her to bed. But he stepped back to stir the onions and add beef stock and move them to the plate with the bacon chunks. Mushrooms and more butter took their place in the pan. He stirred the melting butter, covered the pan, and lowered the heat. “Come here, please.”

He tucked her into him, her back to his chest as they stood together in front of the stove. He sighed, a soft sound in her ear. “It’s a complex relationship to describe only because it comes with customs unfamiliar to you.”

“I’m sorry, Henry.” She sank into his strength. “I don’t mean to be difficult.”

“You’re not being difficult. You’re being honest.” He nuzzled her ear. “It’s quite attractive.”

Mmm. Even the suggestion of his arousal ignited hers.

“Perhaps an illustration would suffice, so long as you understand it is merely that—hypothetical—as our family has enough to address without adding to it, hmm?”

“Hypothesis only. I can follow that.” She hoped. She wanted Henry and Jay. Staying with them meant understanding this.

“Good girl.” He kissed her temple and released her. “I’ve work to finish at the stove. Set the table, please, while I think on this, and then we’ll talk.”

She nodded her acceptance and set the places. Henry at the head of the table, always. Jay at the foot. Her own seat at Henry’s right hand. She’d said yes to him at this table. Been taken across it with slow, powerful thrusts. Sat in Henry’s lap in that chair and received oral sex for the first time from Jay’s well-trained tongue. She couldn’t walk anywhere in the apartment without arousing the memory of Henry’s skilled attention. His love.

He moved like a dancer, handling multiple tasks at the stove with ease. His phone buzzed on the counter. Checking the display, he smiled. Finally he turned down the heat, leaving the pan’s lid crooked at an angle, and came around the kitchen island to sit in his chair at the table.

“Lovely work, Alice. Sit with me. We’ve time. The bourguignon will be fine to simmer until Jay arrives in half an hour.” He pulled her into his lap, sideways, a position guaranteed to tease her memory and make her melt. “I’m certain he’ll be quite hungry.”

She shuddered at his low tone. A blush warmed her cheeks. “Not fair, Henry.”

“Entirely fair, Alice,” he countered. “But it’s story time, now.”

“I’m ready to listen.” With an open mind.

“Excellent. Then let’s begin.” He cradled her back, squeezing once. “Suppose our first visit to the club had gone well, and we began attending regularly. Suppose we meet a young dominant whose scenes we find appealing. A bit younger than you, but showing promise. We begin seeking him out on our visits. Complimenting his skills and offering advice, as appropriate.”

She tried to picture it, to understand the story he was telling her and why. “We see potential. It’s attractive.”

“Precisely. He’s a college student with a strong sense for crafting a scene, but he could be more refined. His submissives could be better satisfied—and I tell him so.”

“That seems like it would be a blow to his ego.” An aspiring dominant wouldn’t appreciate that, would he? She had no idea. Dominants were individuals. No two alike.

Henry chuckled. “He takes it well, perhaps because I offer to demonstrate with my lovely Alice, the light in my eyes, how safe and relaxed and euphoric an experience it can be.”

“Me? He’d be—”

“Observing only.” He draped his arm across her lap and stroked along the outside of her thigh. “Hypothetically speaking. But he would, naturally, be taken with you at first. A bit of a crush.”

Was that how Henry had met Emma and her husband? The question stuck in her throat. “Just a crush, though?”

“Misplaced affection. Because of how beautifully you respond to me, hmm? Because of the harmony that flows between us in a scene. He desires that for himself. Not with you, my lovely Alice, but with his own perfect match.” He kissed her cheek. “And we offer to train him to that end.”

“A new puppy. Like Jay.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Shit. Please don’t let him think—

“Oh, my dear sweet girl.” Henry’s shoulders shook, and he laughed harder. “First Jay is your hare, and now he’s your puppy, is he?” He squeezed her tight. “You ought to tell him so. He’d greatly enjoy knowing you feel such ownership and affection. But to return to our scenario, our young dominant isn’t so exuberant as a puppy, but he has a friend who is. Thick as thieves, the pair of them.”